Page 29 of Richmond’s Legacy

Jace

Ishould be ashamed that I was drunk in front of my newly sober mother, but I was too far gone to care. To be fair, she wasn’t an alcoholic. Her problems stemmed from a narcotics addiction. But vice was vice. And I was a dick.

“I could tell it was happening before it happened, you know?” I blathered on as Sheryll sat beside me on the living room couch, unlacing my boots one at a time and then working to pull them off.

“For a minute, I thought she wasn’t going to do it. But then she did. She fucking told me it was over. ‘For good.’ She…she fucking…she fucking broke up with me.”

“Shhh. It’s okay, my son. I can hear just fine without you shouting.”

“Sorry,” I slurred. It was a miracle I made it home, and a new wave of revulsion settled over me when I thought about how I could have been pulled over and arrested for driving drunk. My law license would most certainly have been revoked. Everything I’d worked toward for so many years would have been in jeopardy. Because of her.

No, I corrected myself. Because of you. She was right about you.

The moment I’d realized Greer was going to try to break things off with me, I knew it would hurt. I’d unleashed a few of my truths in the moment, virtually sealing the deal. Now it hurt worse realizing just how much I’d deserved it and how easily it could have been avoided. I’d thought I had more time to get right with myself, to make up for my behavior ever since I’d pulled her off the scaffolding. I’d thought wrong. I should have known Greer wasn’t the type of woman who was going to put up with that shit.

I’d already told myself repeatedly that I’d just lost a battle, not the war, but I wondered whether Greer was right. I’d been so angry with her, and my anger had driven a wedge between us. Greer had just put us out of our misery.

No, she didn’t, asshole. If you think you were miserable before, wait until she’s out of your life. That’s how you know.

There was no way I could just let her go and move on with my life. My only option was to get her back—but I didn’t know how.

“I think I really fucked up,” I said. Sheryll rubbed my back.

“This is the first I’m hearing about your relationship, son, so I don’t have any advice to give. How long were you with…Greer, did you say her name was?”

“Greer Richmond,” I clarified. Sheryll’s hands stilled on my back. “A few weeks, I guess. But also, before. Years ago.”

“I see. A first love, maybe? Those are hard to shake.”

“I just got her back, Mom. I just got her back, and we were going to be honest with each other always, and then she kept secrets. On purpose. She didn’t feel good, and I didn’t know, and something almost happened to her.”

“I think I understand. But if it hurts this badly to be without her, can’t you just forgive her?”

“I did,” I said, sitting back on the couch and breathing deeply, trying to get rid of the urge to vomit. “I’ve tried. A lot. But I don’t think I can get over it. Because it keeps happening.”

“Then maybe you should just let her go. How can you have a relationship with someone you can’t trust? And how can you expect her to be with you when you’re always holding something over her head?”

“I just need her to trust me. I need her to share everything. I want to know what she ate for breakfast. I want to know what she did and who she talked to during the day, what she’s feeling, and what’s bothering her. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything for her.”

“Oh, my son. That’s not how it works. Even in a relationship, people are entitled to their private thoughts and feelings.”

I lashed out. “How would you know? It’s not like your relationship was some great success.”

But Sheryll didn’t even blink. “I know you might find this hard to believe, but your father wasn’t my first relationship. Nor my last. A few were even pretty healthy. I hope I get to meet Greer someday. But it’s obvious you two need to work on your communication.”

“That’s the thing, though. The more we try to communicate, the more…blocked I feel. Like we’re trying too hard, and it’s not working.”

“If Greer isn’t receptive to talking things out right now, what is she receptive to? What does she care about?”

“She cares about…her family. Finding things out about her family. The truth. Her father. Things like that. That’s why I’ve been tracking down historical documents on the Richmonds for years. In case she ever came home and wanted to see them.”

“Well, there you go. Is she still interested?”

“It’s all she’s interested in.”

“Then why don’t you help her? Why don’t you show her that even when you’re angry with her, you’ll always be there for her, no matter what, and help her get the answers she needs.”

I let my head drop to my mother’s bony shoulder.

---